Lyrics Troy Ave – Who Shot Ya
Text:
As we proceed, to give you what you need
Troy ave motherfucker, bsb motherfucker
As we proceed, to give you what you need
New york city motherfucker, every phantom motherfuckers
I shot ya, slip up your neck with the chopper
Make it hard to sleep when Blocksdale butch
I’m on nigga, shots will have you droppin to your feet
It’s beef, all my niggas delly with the heat
Thou shall not fuck with blockas, he’ll drop you
Run upon me the wrong way and I pop you
Old school, new school, need to learn this
A burning nigga slow like nigga you earn this
Resorts ’cause your actions was dumb like earness
Hard white, on the road to riches taking large steps
Niggas in my way, get flipped like car wrecks
Niggas know, a brutal homicide bout to take place
Fucking with that nigga blocka them say
You niggas better chill, you know, stay in your place
Chrome tuck, 9 spray all in your face
Give no warning, just kicking the door
Let you know it’s real when I’m waving the 4
Give me the loot, you ready to die
See the fear in his eyes, got him hypnotized
He want one more change then I back up the 9
Bsb gang nigga, wassup troy
Fuck niggas, get money and fuck hoes
Bricks hat, hard denimm open fur
Fuck peter, nah, not my nigga rosenberg
Murder with a finger snap, like spoke the word
And I’ll be at the cool table with my nigga nerd
Low key I was that nigga, oh you heard that too
Man I’m not you just fuck with me
You know I’m purer than the aqua fina
Keep them hoes on they toes like the balerina
It’s the murder team, who want beef with that
It be a murder scene, wherever niggas see you at
And I don’t speak, I just creep how I’m supposed to
On the sideline with that heat, eric spostra
Pop the fuck up on these niggas, no toasters
Recline em in the back of the seat, no sofa nigga
Who shot ya
Dead men tell no tales,
Yellow tape, white cups, body and slug shells
Everyday life in the hood, it’s unknown
Another nigga deceased before you get to morning
Noony night, I’m on the bullshit
Shit pop off, I put niggas under the pool pit
Go, tell it on the mountain
But tell it to police and you meet with a full clip
Half galon of henny, 5 cent cuffs,
11 thousand dollar bank dice game, what motherfucker
While I kick on my leisure,
Free time, free my nigga rhyme, streets need ya
Rip chris wallace and riley, I see you
Boy doing his thang, I’m going to ibiza
Still on my geeda, base running fever
Hottest nigga in the street, neck full of freeze
I’m getting money, but if you owe me then pay me
A blocka how you hanging out the window like aces
Cold hearted boy, full limph man Troy
Got fish scale, weighting wares out, ahoy
Ahoy maties, captain of the ship.
Album
Troy Ave – BSB. Vol. 2
